if you get lost, you can always be found (just know you're not alone)
by safeandsound13
Summary: "Oliver Queen and his former-IT-specialist-turned-assistant kidnap a twelve year old. Is that honestly the worst headline concerning you that you've ever heard of?" or Felicity finds Roy and would like to keep him and Oliver just wants Felicity to be happy. Diggle's just happy Roy is potty trained.
1. so show me family

**(a/n: hiiiiiiiiii this is my first time writing for the arrow verse, or well, the only time i've actually uploaded something for the arrow verse (i tried to write stuff before but it never seemed right) then i got this prompt and it was likE A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN**

 **ANYWAY this is going to be multichapter with little fragments of their lives together, not in chronological order perse. i hope its not too ooc but this is just THE trope that gets me going. roy is my actual son i love him very much but oliver and felicity are his real parents lets be real like dont even lie. i've wanted to do this for a while so i hope some of you like it:)**

 **headsup: in this verse oliver and felicity are together sara is alive (bc shes my main hoe yo) and baby sara hasnt been born yet so its like end of season two but with evolved olicity idk just go with it . its because im a failure and dont do canon well okay?**

 **this is based on the prompt handed to me on tumblr: au in which olicity take in orphan roy teenager or baby or kid**

 **song in title is homeward bound / home by glee because im ride or die and that song is lYFE!**

 **song in this chapter is 'hey ho' by the lumineers because it was bound to happen sometime so i thought it'd get it out of the way immidiately)**

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"Where exactly did you find him again?"

"In the alleyway behind the Big Belly Burger downtown. He tried to steal my purse."

Diggle tries to, unsuccessfully, hide a snicker and Oliver turns his head to glare at him. The slightly taller man puts his hands up in defense, an amused grin playing on his lips as he makes a move for the basement, "I'll give you guys a minute." His eyes linger on the tiny adolescent in between his friends for a second longer, before chuckling his way downstairs.

"I'm sure we're breaking about five laws just by having a minor, who's apparently a runaway, in a club that's for 21 and over, let alone we—"

"Oliver Queen and his former-IT-specialist-turned-assistant kidnap a twelve year old. Is that honestly the worst headline concerning you that you've ever heard of?" She tilts her head a little, a small, teasing smile on her lips. He almost gives in but he can't, because this is a tiny person they're talking about and he's done a lot of bad things but corrupting an innocent child won't be one of them.

He ignores her previous question, offering yet another solution. "We have Laurel, she could get him placed into a good foster f—"

"No!" Felicity cuts him off, pulling a grimace as she does so. "Woops, I did not mean to be that loud. I mean it this time." She blushes furiously, eyes widening before quickly covering it up by what she does best, "Listen to me, Roy, over here, my little buddy Roy," she puts her hands on the red-hoodie-wearing-child's (there's a child in his club and Felicity wants to keep it like it's a small puppy that was rejected by it's mother. Of all the crappy things he thought the Arrow would have to deal with, this was not one of them) shoulder, squeezing softly to emphasize who she's talking about, as if that wasn't already crystal clear. "He's in the system. He ran away from multiple foster families, stole food to survive and was in juvie for three months before punching his newest foster father in the face and making a run for it. Again."

Roy turns his head to look up at the blonde, his brows furrowed together. He's about to open his mouth when Felicity speaks, "I'm very talented with computers. I'll tell you all about it someday."

He nods at her in response, turning back to look at Oliver instead, face blank, and he notices the kid doesn't speak much. Felicity had been smiling widely at the kid but when he turns back to her she's closer to glaring. At him. Oliver. Her boyfriend. Because he isn't jumping at the chance to show a pre-teen the perks of concealing your identity with warpaint and green leather.

"They won't place him in a foster family, Oliver, they'll send him back to juvie. Or to like, a group home. That's like high school, 24/7. Now I know high school was probably like a walk in the park for you and all your cash and seriously good looks and athletic skills, probably, and I'm getting way off topic here, but, for kids like us, kids that come from bad families, kids that are different, it's not."

"He punched his last foster father in the face?"

"Sure, I basically verbalize an entire essay on why we should let Roy stay with us—that would've gotten me a solid A had I been taking a class on How To Convince Grumpy People To Do Things in college—and that's what you take away from it. Amazing."

Roy, the tiny human, he finally speaks up once Felicity's done rambling, "In my defense, he's was a real asshole."

Oliver and Felicity share a look, one amused and another slightly pissed. To the universe's surprise, it's Oliver's eyes that are amused. Roy's eyes are just on fire. The kid's got obvious issues. Oliver can't say he doesn't know what that's like.

"Excuse us… kid," Oliver says, and God, it's not that long ago Thea was his age, how has he forgotten how to communicate with people… little people? He grabs Felicity's forearm and pulls her over to the bar.

Before he can say anything, she beats him to it. This is not a surprise to him. You wouldn't say so, but it happens more often than you'd think.

"Look, he's an orphan. His dad died in jail and his mom overdosed not too long ago. He has nowhere to go. And I think he kind of likes you. He's the broody type, you could totally bond over being broody," she smiles, a lighter tone to her voice before it disappears from her face when it's obvious her boyfriend isn't budging.

"Oliver, he's all alone," she pleads again, looking in his eyes and trying to convey her desperation into a look. "We could just take him in and take care of him for a little while—"

"And then what, Felicity? We take him out on field trips to abandoned warehouses and dark alleyways?"

"No, we just, we just—make up a few excuses. Nothing totally unbelieveable like 'my friend is going to sell sport drinks in syringes' or 'my coffee shop is a bad neighbourhood' but maybe, like, I don't know? We have to work a lot of night shifts because that's when our line of work is most active. Which isn't a complete lie."

"You think he's going to buy that?"

"He might. I don't know. Does it matter when the alternative is having him arrested or live on the street like a criminal?"

"And in the meanwhile, he what? Does shots with Thea in the club? Or does he help you hack into governmental instances?" Oliver huffs, crossing his arms, pressing, "It can't happen, and that's final."

His eyes soften a little, one hand reaching out to her arm; just because he can't agree with her, he isn't happy about having to kick the helpless child out and hurting Felicity in the process, "I'm sorry—"

She cuts him off, slapping his hand away before crossing her arms and mimicking his poster, "Fine, I'll do it on my own."

"Felicity."

"Don't think for a second think I'm going to give up just because you said no. You're not my father, neither do we live in the like, seventh century in which you get to decide for me because you owe me. You don't get to make decisions for me, Oliver—"

"Felicity."

"No, Oliver, you think just because I'm a woman and you're a man that likes to," she warily looks over at Roy, who seems more interested in his burner phone than anything else, before lowering her voice on the next few words, "shoot up people with his arrows at night, that's like ' _oh look at me I'm Oliver, I'm manly, I drink beer for breakfast and like, use aftershave and like highkey love sports_ ' that you have some kind of superiority over m—"

"Fe-li-ci-ty."

She winces, pausing mid-sentence. "I got a little carried away again, didn't I?"

He nods and it's silent for a moment.

"We'll take care of him." He sighs deeply, running a hand over his head. If Felicity is going to do it anyway, he might as well get some brownie points out of this. "Just for a little while. Promise me you'll talk to Laurel and—"

Felicity breaks into a smile, a small squeal leaving her lips as she reaches out to hug him tightly, breaking him off mid sentence. Oliver pats her back softly as he makes eye contact with their newest addition to the team, even if he can't ever know about being part of it.

When she pulls away, he stops her for a second, lowering his voice. "What's his name again?

"Roy." She scrunches up her nose, "Harper." Frowning at herself, she clarifies, "Roy Harper."

"What did you promise him in order for him to agree to come live with virtual strangers?"

"Not to press charges. Oh, and I promised him as much burgers for dinner as he wanted. Also mentioned you ride a kickass motorcycle. Seemed to interest him." She shrugs, like she didn't just casually refer to a child might making a move to steal his motorcycle in the near future.

Oliver furrows his brows before shaking his head to himself, because he honestly can't handle this conversation right now. Maybe later. Turning back to Roy and taking a few steps closer, he clears his throat.

"Roy, I'm Oliver. What do you say you come live with us for a while?"

The kid raises his eyebrows, his arms crossed, "Like I care," and Oliver can't say that's not exactly how he would react had he been in his position. Still, he doesn't like it.

Felicity nudges the smaller boy with her elbow softly, a teasing smile on her face, "That's my boy!" Her smile fades a little at the expressions on their faces, "What? Too soon?"

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 **(a/n: please tell me what you think! ! !)**


	2. god makes no mistakes, i made a few

**(a/n song is glory by jay z :) )**

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"How was I suppos— _ow!_ —supposed to know he'd bri-ahh-ng, bring a grenade?"

"Maybe because I told you he would?" It's not out of some sort of petty revenge she pulls on the tread a little harder, but it's out of some sort of petty revenge. She's not mad. She's not.

He winces, putting his hand on top of hers, mid-stitch "I'm fine, okay? Just a scratch."

"Just a scratch? I literally just almost had the pleasure of meeting you small intestines and you honestly have the guts, excuse me for that horrible pun, to tell me it was just a—"

"What the hell?"

Felicity's eyes widen as she drops her needle, freezing on the spot, "Shit." Oh no. This was really bad. Like grenade in the side, just ruined my favorite dress because my boyfriend bled all over it, I run around as a vigilante in green leather at night, bad.

"Roy." Oliver simply states, sending Felicity what must be one of his I-told-you-this-was-a-fucking-bad-idea glares, but she can't move to actually see. Fun fact: fear can actually paralyze you. He quickly makes a move to cover up his side, by holding a bandage to it, sitting up a little.

" _You_ 're the Arrow?" Roy doesn't sound appalled or angry (not even a little surprised, that little..), the only two states of emotion Felicity knows for certain exist within him, but instead seems a little… happy? That can't be right.

"No, I tripped down the stairs and cut myself. Felicity was just patching me up." Oliver and his excuses. You thought he would've learned by now.

"Right, that explains the leather green pants you're wearing."

"Where's Sara?" Oliver growls, the bandage turning a faint red as he stares Roy down. Sara was supposed to be watching him.

"She fell asleep watching some reality show about Armenian women," Roy states idly, walking over to Felicity's computers and running his fingers over the cold, metal table. His eyes are filled with wonder and she thinks she might actually _prefer_ a grenade in the side right now.

A year, Sara Lance. A year of long nights and carefully crafted white lies to keep their nightly activities out of Roy's life and she falls asleep watching the Kardashians. A year!

She can practically feel the asskicking (oh, it's going to hurt, believe her) Sara will receive tonight. By her. Not Oliver. No, no, Oliver will use his words. And Sara will suffer.

"How the.. How did you get in here?" Felicity finally manages to turn around and look at him, straightening out the skirt of her dress and pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She's mentally trying to recollect herself because this is not good, not good at all. This is just...? Do people have awards for worst foster parents in the universe? Because it's a prize she could definitely go without, like, forever. Science fairs? History has proven she nails these. Maybe a nobel prize or field medal in the future? Yes. Worst Fake Parent Ever? No, thank you.

"I'm very skilled at picking locks," he grins, as if he's proud of himself, his eyes halting on the bow on display in the back of the foundry, "Also it helps that you left the door unlocked."

"Damnit," she mutters, being able to physically feel Oliver's eyes glaring holes into her body. Maybe he'd also use his words on her later. Oops. She was not looking forward to that particular moment.

"Don't," Oliver says suddenly, as Roy reaches out to touch one of his arrows. "Don't touch anything."

"So," Roy picks up an arrow, admiring it (Oliver takes in a sharp breath) and grinning that mischievous grin she knows all too well, "does this mean I'm not grounded anymore?"

"Yes," Oliver bites back in response, figuring that doesn't really need any more elaboration, getting up with a small wince to snatch the arrow out of his hands, carefully putting it back on display.

"You almost set your gym on fire at school, Roy," Felicity sighs, because elaborations are kind of her thing, okay.

"Yeah, and Oliver runs around at night to shoot people with his arrows but he's not grounded either."

Felicity shrugs lazily and the words - oh, the words. They will definitely will be directed at her later this evening. Her and the words will meet, they will murder her and she will suffer but honestly her mouth and it's lack of a filter is the blame here. "He has a point there."

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	3. we've not yet lost all our graces

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Oliver knows shock, he knows complete and utter fear for your life, but the horror he witnesses on Felicity's face when she comes running into their bedroom that night - in her pyjama pants, hair down, fluffy slippers on and in complete panic - is nothing like he has ever seen before, that he would have to describe as nothing else than complete horror.

"Oliver," she breathes, climbing on their bed and sitting down next to him.

"What?" He questions, repressing a smile, a little amused as he puts his phone down on his nightstand (Sara and her constant stream of videos of WWE and Parkour Fail Videos per text message could wait, really) as she grabs onto his forearm with both hands, patting on it to get his full attention.

"I found," she lowers her voice - out of breath, chest heaving up and down - and cups the side of her mouth, "condoms."

"Okay," he half asks, not really sure where she's going with this. Surely, she knows they don't really use them anymore. Is that why she's so freaked out? Didn't they have a conversation about this?

"No, no, no," she clarifies, swallowing tightly, "In _Roy's_ room. Now I know what you're thinking, but I wasn't snooping! I was talking to him about his math test and he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and I sat down on his bed and there it was! No, it was worse. There _they_ were. He's fourteen, oh dear God, what is this life? Why is this happening to me? What do we do?"

The look on her face was actually really hilarious, somewhere in between panic, disgust and depression and he can't really help it, trying really hard to keep his laughter in before choking on it, finally. She digs her nails deeper into his skin.

"Help me!" Right. A solution to her condom problem. All he really thinks of is that she looks particularly cute in the moment, all freaked out and he leans forward to place a kiss on her lips. She visibly relaxes, but does not loosen the death grip she has on his arm.

"I'll talk to him," he finally offers, although he's not really down to give the talk to a fourteen year old when there's internet, but it's more an effort on his part to help her calm down. It works because she finally retracts her claws, instead scooting closer to sit next to him, kicking the blanket off the bed before laying it over her legs.

"Okay, thanks, because I was thinking of doing it on my way here, but then I thought, what am I supposed to say? I mean, a girl, okay, you know? I can talk my way out of that one because I've been through it and I could explain that chocolate always makes the cramps better and that if you have a pimple the day before a date that toothpaste works every time and that your body is sacred but a boy? A teenage boy? I don't think he'd go for the whole ' _oh,wait until you're in love_ ' crap because look at him, he's a heartbreaker in the making, he's a tiny you and who am I? Like, literally who am I?"

"You thought of all of this on your three second way over here?" He raises his eyebrows, smoothing out the blanket with his hand.

"It's exhausting to be me, I know," she sighs dramatically, leaning her head against his shoulder and patting his chest. "Did Sara send anymore funny videos?"

He shows her his latests texts (" _can we please make one of these in the foundry, please? i want to kick your ass for the whole world to see_ ") wondering how the hell he's going to talk himself out of this one. Literally.

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"Sooooooo," Felicity beams at him, slipping out of her heels and throwing her coat over a chair in the kitchen before falling down on the couch next to him. She props her head onto her hand, elbow leaning on the backrest. "Did you talk to him?"

"What?" Oliver pauses from trying to inhale his instant noodles (which was a bad four o'clock snack, he knew that but maintaining a body like he had meant eating a lot of carbs. And they were so good), taking his eyes of the hockey game in front of him.

"You know, about the," she looks around, clearing her throat, softly, " _condoms_."

"You don't have to keep whispering the word condom, babe, the condom police isn't going to come out and arrest you," he chuckles amused as he puts a spoonful of noodles in his mouth.

She ignores him (besides a small roll of the eyes), just stares at him for a few more beats (two seconds, he honestly didn't think she would even last that long) before pressing, " _Well_?"

He shifts in his seat, obviously tensing up a little, "You were serious about that?" He remembers his father after speaking with Thea about 'it' and traumatized didn't even cut it. Everybody and their mother and their mother (thanks media!) knew he never had the talk, hence his womanizer reputation. He had thought Felicity would forget about it eventually. Roy was responsible.. enough. Kind of.

"What did you think that I was just kidding around about Roy," she grimaces, "Fornicating. I wish."

"Okay, first of all, never use that word again. Second of all, do you really think it's necessary?" He offers her a bite of noodles by pointing his spoon into her general direction but she shakes her head, instead deciding on lecturing him about safe sex. He's able to tune out of most of it, luckily. He loved Felicity, but brushing up on his trivia on teen sex was really not something he wanted to participate in.

"...the reports… among teens… shocking numbers… psychologist say that…chlamydia… one in three…"

About five minutes in, he decides that cutting her off might just be a better idea than her possibly finding out he hadn't been listening. Shrugging idly, he says, "He's being safe, what more could I tell him."

"How about the consequences of knocking a girl up? STD's? _Death_?" Her eyes are wide, wild even and he realizes this is freaking her out even more than he had originally thought.

"Condoms protect you against both of those things and I'm pretty sure death isn't a common outcome of sex." He smirks a little, "Unless you do it _really_ right."

"Don't say sex while we're talking about Roy!" Felicity was just having a hard time accepting he was growing up. A really hard time.

"Felicity, he's not twelve anymore. What did you expect?" He knew fourteen was young, but it wasn't worse, like, let's say, thirteen?

"I'm home!" There's noise, and a lot of it.

"It's him," she whispers forcefully and he resists the urge to roll his eyes, "Of course it's him, did you think I thought it was Digg?"

She elbows him, hard, in the ribs (even though she knows he was hit in the exact same spot by a hardened criminal one one of their nightly adventures not too long ago) before beaming at Roy.

Oliver nods at him in lieu of a greeting, his mouth full of noodles once again and Roy just rolls his eyes, letting out a small snort.

Felicity straightens her back unnaturally straight, earning weird looks from both males in the room, nervously fixing her glasses. "Hey, can I get you anything? Some water? A snack?" She tries to, smoothly, rest her elbow on the backrest of the couch, but misses, and almost topples over in the process. "Maybe some of my pride," she mutters bitterly to herself, through her teeth, smile not fading even a little.

Roy chuckles a little, sporting an amused look. "No, thanks, I'm just going to make some homework," he waves her off with a small smile that he reserves just for her before disappearing into his bedroom and Felicity shakes her boyfriend roughly, loudly whispering, " _Homework_?!"

"That does sound odd coming from him, yes," Oliver admits, but it was probably code for listening to music or playing a videogame. Not masturbating while they were one door down from him, which Felicity seemed to be getting at.

She sends him a look, and they stare each other down for a moment or two. He is getting her message loud and clear. No words needed to know she wanted him to talk to Roy, now, or he could sleep on the couch for an undetermined period of time.

He sighs, "Can I at least finish my noodles?"

She glares at him, and really, he's fine in his bed so he doesn't dare to question her anymore.

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"Is there any way you can record this?" Laurel voice comes through Felicity's phone, laughing loudly.

"Well, I could maybe hack into his phone and try and enter his mainframe so I can manually override his-" She pauses, "Wait, this totally makes me a bad girlfriend, right? Letting him handle the birds and bees conversation with a fourteen year old. Alone. By himself. Without me. God, I'm the worst."

"Oliver Queen," she says out loud, more to herself than anyone and Felicity is kind of getting this vibe this one of their conversations where they just talk to themselves about two different things, "giving the sex talk. I never thought the day would come." Another giggle.

"Should I go in there? Or would that be creepy? What if they're talking about their.. stuff, or something. I don't know, do guys talk about their stuff? I shouldn't go in there, just in case." Okay, so she's losing it a little. But no one ever prepared her for this, she was thrown into this without warning.

"Are you sure he's even the right person for this? I mean, he's experienced in the area, but, is he really?" Laurel wonders out loud, tapping her fingers on her desk, "Do you think he'll just start telling Roy about his techniques or do guys keep those things a secret?"

"We've dealt with criminals and murderers and psychos and Malcolm, who's just on a whole other level, this really shouldn't be that scary," Felicity sighs, running a hand over her hair. "Somehow it is."

"Thanks for the call, Fe, I mean, when I just won the DiLaurentis case I thought my day couldn't get any better, but," another sound of (diabolical) laughter from her end of the line, "you just made. my. week. Wait till I tell Thea, she'll have a field day with this one."

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"Roy," Oliver clears his throat, knocking on his open door and hovering in the doorway like a creepy uncle, "Hello."

"Hey?" Roy looks at him, eyebrows furrowed at his stiff, formal behaviour. "Do you guys have to 'pick up' a 'thing' that can 'only be picked up at night' again?"

"I panicked," Oliver defends himself about one of his infamous lie that Roy just loves to throw back in his face, all the time, before carefully positioning himself on the edge of Roy's desk. "I'm just here to talk to you about something that… Felicity found. In your room."

Awkward didn't even began to describe it.

Roy's eyes widened, "Shit, I only used it once, I swear."

"Yeah, I hope so, they're not really reusable," Oliver mutters to himself just as Roy starts to explain himself.

"I mean, some guys offered me some at that party I went to Friday and I was going to throw the rest of it away - " Roy stops, freezing at the look on Oliver's face, "Wait… What are we talking about?"

"The condoms Felicity saw in your nightstand." Oliver narrows his eyes and Roy takes in a sharp breath.

"Oh my God," he deadpans, the realization (and dread) dawning in on his face, "they forced us to take them home during health class, which I wanted to skip, remember, as usual, but Felicity freaked out when the principal called about my 'unexplained absences'," he airquotes, "and lectured me for five hours."

"Since we both don't want to be on the receiving end of another one of those, let's just make a deal here, okay?" Oliver sighs, realizing they're both very bad people if they agree to what he's going to suggest next but he's not really one to scold Roy, looking at all the stuff he pulled himself. "I won't tell Felicity that you're harboring pot, Kumar, and you'll go online and find everything about sex you need to know, swearing to your grave the talk I gave you was the best you could have ever imagined and then we'll just never mention this again, okay?"

"Sounds a whole lot better than listening to you stutter for the next half hour."

"Watch it," Oliver replies sternly but they both know he doesn't really mean it. He pauses, an uncomfortable look on his face as he clears his throat, "Do you?"

"Do I what?" Roy frowns, looking up at the older male and Oliver takes in a deep breath, "You know...Have any questions?"

"No, thank you, Oliver, I'm great," Roy squeaks out with a red face before, finally, he adds, "Want to watch the rest of episode with me so she'll think you gave it to me _really_ good?" Roy grins, like he just read Oliver's mind, nodding towards his laptop which shows two characters from _The Walking Dead_ (somehow that show always make him feel more normal) about to break into a fight and he isn't really going to pass the opportunity up to see somebody else's ass get kicked once.

"We're bad people," Oliver comments casually, falling down on the bed next to Roy, stealing a pillow from him - who decides not to fight him (but sends him daggers anyway).

"Hey, it's a small white lie. The world needs white lies to survive," Roy retorts, starting the episode back up, his next remark earns him a firm glare and shove of the shoulder, "Like you guys not telling me you have a thing for green leather for like a year."

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	4. i won't put my hands up and surrender

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"And this… This is your room," Felicity smiles, opening the door to relatively spacious room, themed and decorated with cars, trophies and race stripes - it had been Thea's idea - and for a minute (or two) she thought it might be a little over the top, he was twelve after all, but once a Queen made up their mind there was really no changing it.

"Thanks," he mutters, throwing his duffel bag on the floor and taking a look around. Finally his eyes land back on Felicity and Oliver, still in the doorway, his jaw tightening.

"Do you like it?" Felicity offers an easy smile, brushing a loose strand from her face nervously, "We could take some of this stuff down if you want, it was Oliver's sister's idea but I could understand if you -"

"Do you want me to call you mom now or something?" He snaps, eyes narrowed as he cuts her off. His words are deliberate; he wants them to know he's not here to make friends; he's here to sit out his time until they get tired of him and move on to their next exciting new little project.

"Roy," Oliver warns lightly, and Felicity shakes her head, putting a hand on his chest to keep him from saying any more.

"No, it's fine." She bites down on the inside of her cheek for a second, before she adds, "It's fine. We'll just let you settle in and you can just come out for dinner anytime you want, okay?"

He only grunts in response, putting his earphones on which Felicity takes as their cue to closes the door behind them before she makes a beeline for their own bedroom.

"Felicity," Oliver sighs, eyes sympathetic (part of him wonders what she had expected, part of him is angry he agreed to this ordeal to begin with, part of him just really wants to make her feel okay again) but before he can reach out to comfort her, she slams the door of their bedroom in his face. After a knock and no obvious protest, he opens the door, finding her facedown on their bed.

"Felicity," he tries again, softly, as he sits down next to her body, carefully rubbing his hand over her back. He's not really good with pep talks, or words in general. Unless he's yelling. Then it just comes to him like hot flashes. This doesn't seem like a good time to yell, though. "He… This is all new for him."

She doesn't respond, shaking her head slightly. "It's me, isn't it? I'm too," she pauses, and he hears a small whimper, "I'm _too_ Felicity. I'm too much, I'm too—me."

He chuckles lowly and he hears a small huff in response, "That's not it, believe me." He brushes his hand over her hair carefully, taking a deep breath, "When I… when I came back from the island I didn't want to speak to anyone either. I felt like nobody would understand, they just thought they did. They _thought_ they knew what I'd been through and it was hard, but I managed. Barely. And I was an adult. He's.. He's twelve. He—he needs some time."

She sniffs, finally sitting up, and reaching up to wipe a few stray tears from her cheeks. (She doesn't even know why she's crying—she's never been a crier, especially not about something so small and stupid. He's been with them for a total of three hours. Thank God she is not alone in this. She would've had one of those Britney Spears breakdowns 2 hours and 45 minutes ago.) Sheepishly she reaches for his hand, quietly informing him that, "I love you, you know?"

"And I love you," he grins that special grin he only saves for her, a little lighter he adds, "And so will Roy. It's just a matter of time. I promise. Everyone does."

She snorts, adjusting her glasses, "Can you show me the receipts of that?"

"Well, there's me," he offers, after a beat or two, pushing her hand playfully, "I'm really the best exhibit out there that's there's no escaping Felicity Smoak."

"Ha, like you even _tried_ to escape."

.

"We're getting a kitten," Felicity informs him. "Roy is sad. I get that. I'd be sad too if my both of my parents bailed on me and some loony lady and broody guy forced me to live with them. So we're getting a kitten and he will love the kitten and then he will finally love me."

"Bribe? _Really_?" Oliver grunts as he dodges one of Diggle's moves, "You want to go there?"

Felicity sighs almost dramatically, "It's been three months and I'm pretty sure he hates us both."

"Oliver I get, but how can he hate you?" Diggle smirks teasingly, throwing another punch Oliver's way, who blocks it, sending him a look, dryly, "Ha-ha."

Sara springs in from her position in front of the punching bag, finally, multitasking as always, "I'm pretty sure," punch, "Laurel was," grunt, "joking when she," highkick, "suggested it."

"And drunk," Felicity adds, twirling in her throne (which was actually just her desk chair but a girl can dream), fingers pressed together in front of her face like a pyramid, "But also right."

"And who's going to take care of this said kitten? Do I need to remind you we're already working two full time jobs and fostering a kid that's hellbound on not making it easy either?"

"Ah, come on Oliver, don't be such a party pooper," Sara snorts half-sarcastic, taking of her protective gloves, not even a little out of breath and reminding Felicity she should really try and use that elliptical at home one time, soon, probably.

"Yes, Oliver, don't be such a party pooper," Felicity beams excitedly, voice teasing. "Cats are practically the most independ creatures in the world. We won't even have to walk it everyday and it does this cute, fluffy thing where it purrs and pets your leg with it's head."

"Is this kitten for Roy or you?" Diggle chuckles before taking a swig of water, offering Oliver a second bottle.

"Both. Mostly Roy, but also for me, you know, just in case if Roy should reject the cute, fluffy kitten that does the thing in favor of a life dedicated to criminality and not having any Felicity in it. Literally. Like my name means intense happiness and isn't a cute fluffy kittens the very definition of that?"

Oliver open his mouth and is about to respond but all it takes is one fiery look from one Felicity Smoak to silence him.

It would take a whole kind of other look to convince Oliver the creature Felicity's currently petting at the pet store's a feline. "I thought you said we were getting a cat."

"Look at him," she gushes, looking up at Oliver as the dog (he's pretty damn sure it's a dog, one that will need to be walked) rubs his nose against Felicity's leg, tail wagging excitingly. "This is what clouds must taste like, this is what's at the end of rainbows, this is happiness, this is—everything. He's so cute."

"Didn't you say kittens were the very definition of intense happiness?"

She raises her eyebrows, looking at him over the rim of her glasses, lips pursed in disdain, "Didn't you say your name was Al Sahim, heir of the _demon_ , and Oliver Queen was dead?" Aaaaaand he guesses she's never going to let that one go.

Oliver has to admit the golden retriever has it's charm. Literally has to because if he doesn't, Felicity might break-up with him, burn his clothes and break all contact. That's how serious she is about this puppy. And okay, at least dogs are known to be loyal creatures and they could definitely use more of that in their lives.

And it's an entirely different kind of look on Roy's face when they bring it home; eyes narrowed in suspicion. Like the dog is their way of telling him he should start looking for somewhere else to live.

"What's that?"

"A huge, hairy spider," Oliver deadpans, Felicity stepping down on his foot harshly (in her opinion; in his he wanted to give her some more training in case someone attacked her and she needed to inflict _actual_ pain). That was not an image she needed swirling around in her head.

"It's yours," Felicity says confidently, holding out the puppy, before finally just bringing it so close he has no options but to take it from her. Roy glances over at the animal with uncertainty, holding it like you would hold a baby with a dirty diaper. "So what are you going to name him?"

There's no doubt on his face or in his voice when he finally speaks up after a few moments. "Speedy."

.

He's sixteen when he comes to her room early in the morning, Oliver off to a breakfast with his mom and Thea.

"What's this?" She yawns, rubbing some sleep out of her eyes as she sits up, leaning back against the headboard of her bed as she smiles brightly. He sits down next to her, a present in his lap.

"I bought you something," he grunts, avoiding eye contact. She reaches for her glasses on the nightstand before putting her hair in a messy bun, taking a look at the clock, nine a.m. on a sunday. Normally she has to literally kick him out of bed in the weekends.

"I don't know if I'm more surprised about the 'you' part or the 'bought' part," she teases, as he hands her the package, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

She puts it in her lap, rubbing her hands together excitedly, before carefully starting to unwrap it, babbling on as always. Even this early in the morning. "Is this that new pocket sized gummy bear keychain we saw? I know I had a near mental breakdown over that but it was so _tiny_. Oh, or those chocolates I like. It's probably the chocolates, right? I love them so much, I would literally commit multiple crimes -"

She pauses as Roy stares at her nervously. "Oh," she says lamely, running her fingers over the small arrow shaped necklace on her lap.

"Now I kinda wish I'd bought you the chocolates," he forces out a chuckle, but it's obvious he doesn't think the situation's funny at all.

"No," her voice falters before she firmly repeats, "No, I love it. Thank you."

"I just," his face colors as he stares down at the necklace, as he swallows tightly, "I know you're not my mother, but there isn't really a cool-stranger-that-took-me-in-when-I-was-twelve day, and there's your birthday but that's not the same, because I wanted to - I wanted to thank you. For," he pauses, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he thinks it over, "So much."

 _Mother's day._ It's mother's day and he bought her a present. (She won't blame it anything else but female hormones when tears gather in her eyes.) She leans over and hugs him, tightly. Really tightly. At one point he thinks she won't ever let go.

He laughs, finally, loudly, patting her back awkwardly before she finally lets go of him. Changing the subject he asks, "Is it too obvious? The arrow, I mean? I just saw it in the store and thought of you and.. I don't know." He colors again, voice soft.

He thought of _her_. The hardcore warm feeling in her chest must indicate she might die any second now. She wishes Oliver was here. Her two boys. She thinks of Speedy, probably still fast asleep in Roy's room, grinning to herself. Suck on that, Oliver. Her plan totally worked. Eventually. But she was right. Which is the important part.

"No, it's so obvious that it's not. It's actually kind of genius," she beams, before making her famous 'o'-face, "Can you put it on for me?" She takes it out the box carefully and hands it to him as she makes sure all of her hair is out of the way. Felicity huffs humorously as Roy struggles with the necklace, "So, did you get Oliver the same necklace?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No?" She raises her eyebrows, wiggling them in expectation as he finally succeeds and she shifts back to her original position, fingering the arrow carefully.

"I got him selfmade flechettes - I painted them green. I swear I saw tears."

.


	5. you're my best friend (you make me live)

.

The first time he meets Donna Smoak, well. It's an experience.

She arrives, dressed in a leopard dress, hair closer to God than he'll ever be, leaving red marks of lipstick on both his cheeks as she squeezes him until he can't breathe.

"Well, I'd always hoped to dress my first grandchild in cute matching clothes but since we skipped that part maybe we could jump straight to the cocktails, hmh?"

"Mom," Felicity interjects, firmly, brows furrowed together as Donna waves her off. "Oh, please honey, get your panties out of that twist." She plucks some imaginary lint off his shoulder, straightening out his hoodie. "He's almost thirteen! Which practically makes him an adult in our culture."

"I think you're confusing Vegas culture with a bar mitzvah." Felicity crosses her arms over her chest. "Don't feed him any alcohol or your grandma privileges are gone."

Donna hisses, pressing a hand to her heart as she sighs, dramatically. "Don't call me grandma, okay? Call me something cool and hip," she throws her arm around his shoulder, turning him towards the door, "Mami. Or just Donna. Isn't that a thing? Calling your grandma by her first name? Let's make it a thing."

"Mom, I'm serious! Do not feed him alco—" is the last desperate cry from Felicity he's able to make out before the door falls shut behind them.

"I love my daughter but she's _so_ uptight." She slides her sunglasses over her nose, wiggling her eyebrows. "She should learn to live a little."

They don't get cocktails, exactly, but she gets arrested for trespassing when she wants to take him go-karting at a place that's already closed. She flirts her way out of it, and he doesn't even need to promise he won't tell his parents, because honestly? Coolest. Grandma. Ever.

.

"Well, what about her?" Donna points over at one of the waitresses who's leaning over the counter to give an order to the chef.

"She has a good ass," he comments approvingly, stuffing a fry into his mouth before swallowing it down with a swig of his 'sex on the beach'. As an afterthought, he adds, "But I'm not really into blondes."

She actually gapes over at him, long pink fingernails digging into the edge of the table. "Excuse me?"

He raises his eyebrows at her, unimpressed. " _You're_ my grandma." Kind of. He's still not completely at ease with the whole adoptive family taking over his actual family, because his actual family was shit. A small part of him still fears they weren't just shitty to him, they were shitty _because_ of him. And he doesn't want that to happen to anyone else.

"You're right," she admits, smiling sweetly, patting down her hair as she adds, softer and less confident, "But, still. I look good, right?"

He's about to tell her she looks fine when her face lights up, eyes landing on a girl with a pink bow in her hair, light reflecting off her braces as she laughs at something her friend's saying.

"Donna, she's totally still in middle school," he groans, taking a handful of fries and cramming them all into his mouth at once before she has the chance to say anything.

She grimaces uncomfortably, before pursing her lips thoughtfully. "So you're into older women?"

Not exactly. He's just not into _children_.

He shrugs, starting on his burger and Donna reaches out to put her hand on his wrist, schemingly looking over at a brown-haired, curvy woman standing in line for the cash register, nodding her head slightly towards her. She thinks she's subtle, but she's never.

"Jesus, not _that_ old," he almost chokes on the food in his mouth, about to flush it down with his drink when the rest of the family walks in. He hadn't really planned on a family gathering, but Felicity lived for Big Belly Burger and as soon as she heard they were eating dinner there, she insisted on coming.

"Mom, he's fifteen," Felicity presses, grin fading off her face quickly, making a move to grab his drink away from him, coat and purse hanging on her free arm.

"It's _virgin_ ," she hisses darkly, her grip as strong on the glass as Felicity's, who eyes her down for a minute before giving her the benefit of the doubt. Or, she decides the hassle's really not worth it. Donna would kick her own daughter's ass over a virgin cocktail and there's not a single sorry bone in his body that doubts it.

He's shoving the bags of clothes Donna got him (with Oliver's credit card) in between his legs to make more room in the booth. And if he ends up squeezed against Thea, well. So be it.

He's moving aside to give the brunette some more space to sit down when he notices Donna looking at him, one of those secret smiles on her face, like she knows everything and he knows nothing. Which is annoying.

"Just right, huh?" She whispers under her breath as soon as she ends up next to him because Felicity and Oliver were trying to fit in their booth, too, and pokes him in the ribs.

"Donna," he mutters warningly, and Thea and Felicity are too caught up in their conversation about what burger they're going to sin with to notice, but Oliver sends him a pitying look like he's been there. Donna just smiles innocently, going on to gush over Thea's dress and then complain about her own daughter's 'lack of sequins'.

 _You don't know the half of it, Oliver, you don't know the half of it._

.

"The adventures of Donna and Roy Smoak," she gushes, squeezing him tightly in her arms as she hops up and down out of pure enthusiasm. She smells like cotton candy and sweet alcohol. "Roy Smoak- _Queen_?" She corrects herself, sending him a questioning glance.

"It's still Harper, you know," he answers, considerably less excited. "Like it's been for the past five years."

"Don't ruin it, sourpuss," she informs him, eyebrows raised to express she's completely unimpressed with the grumpy look on his face. She takes his head in both hands and uses her thumb to smooth out the skin on his forehead. "Don't frown so much either, I've never seen a kid your age with a wrinkle this big."

Then, she takes his arm and pulls him along, passed the coffee shops and fast food restaurants and out of the airport. She takes small steps when she walks, and it's not until he looks down that he realizes she's wearing heels the length of his pointer-finger, but he still has to try and keep up.

"It's a pity your folks couldn't get the weekend off," she comments, offhandedly, and she's smiling while she says it, but there's a sad look in her eyes. "You'd think Oliver being the CEO of the company his wife works at would give them more free time."

He just hums in response, and tries to get a cab to stop as she pulls him along the sidewalk because she 'knows a spot'.

"Maybe they just don't want to see _me_ ," she adds, casually, glancing at him sideways to gauze his reaction. Unfortunately for her, he has a killer poker face.

"That, or Felicity's eight months pregnant, Donna."

She stops them abruptly, sending him a way too emotional look. He doesn't really _do_ emotional. "You know you'll always be my grandbaby, too, right? No matter how old you'll get, kid."

"Donna," he presses, looking around awkwardly at the busy crowd surrounding around them. He doesn't really do emotional. Especially not in busy crowds.

"No, I'm serious," she sniffs, patting at the bottom of her eyes with a tissue she collected from the bottom of her fluffy neon-pink handbag. "You'll always be my first."

"Your first grandchild," he echoes, quickly, eyes wide, checking to see if anyone overheard her. He grabs her by the shoulders, because he needs her to understand the difference. "Your first _grandchild_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Same difference," she waves him off, pursing her lips. "What I was trying to say is that family—it's, it's not about _blood_ , it's about who you go to at the end of the day and," she drifts off, smiling brightly as she pinches his cheek like he's still the twelve year old little kid who came into her daughter's life out of nowhere, who she just accepted from the get-go, no questions asked, "drink cocktails with." She rolls her eyes, brushing some lint off his shoulder. "Or would like to, anyway."

The corners out of his mouth turn up a little, and he shakes his head. His face is still blank, he knows this, but inside, he feels— _good_. Wanted. For all that it's worth, considering he doesn't have much to compare her to, she's the best grandma he's ever had. "I guess you want another hug now?"

She scoffs, playfully as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy them, kid."

.

He doesn't really know why he gets into fights, at school and at home, especially not the ones that don't make sense. Like this one.

He _knows_ he's wrong. He stayed out too late, and woke up the baby in the middle of the night because he was too high to be able to tell how to discreetly walk up a staircase and close a damn door. He even almost burned the house down when he tried to bake himself an egg.

He doesn't even catch the first half of Felicity's ramble, just sees the way her eyebrows are wrinkled together and how her eyes are shiny and it scares him, that he could do that, to her, to someone who took him in when he was so lost. During every fight, part of him wonders if this is it, this is going to be the final straw, and she's going to kick him out.

That is, until Oliver pulls down his headphone so it's around his neck instead.

"Like you never stayed out late," he spits, eyes dangerously narrowed, and interrupting Felicity. "Or did some weed. Not while you attended six different private schools, and especially not at one of the _four,_ was it, colleges you went to, right?"

Oliver just huffs, humoured, shaking his head to himself. His arms are crossed over his chest as he takes in a sharp breath, before finally looking at him, collected but Roy knows by the way his jaw is clenched that he is pissed off. "You've got some nerve."

Donna is cradling the baby—his _sister_ , he thinks—in her arms as she looks from one person to another with a confused frown, all the while trying to shush her.

"I never did anything to endanger a three month old baby, what if I hadn't seen you left the stove on?" Of course. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's all about her.

"Nevermind what he did, or _I_ did," Felicity insists, like _she_ 's ever done anything bad in her life, "We never wanted any of that for you. That's the whole parenting thing, you know? You want better for your kid—"

"You're _not_ my mom," he bites, jaw clamped shut and he doesn't care how she looks like she's about to cry, or how Oliver looks like he just personally stabbed him in the back. He is just still _so_ angry, all the time. And a lot of the time he doesn't know how to feel all that rage, without wanting to explode.

"Well, I'll be damned," Donna starts, calm and collected, but her eyes are narrowed as she hands the baby off to Oliver, putting her hands on her hips.

"Mom," Felicity tries, soft but it comes out squeaky. "Just leave it."

"No, Felicity," she says, making sure no one mistakes her shaky voice for anything but anger as she turns back to him. "He needs to hear this."

He crosses his arms, scoffing. There is anything she could say he hasn't already told himself.

"Felicity and Oliver took you in when you were just a twelve year old brat. Frankly, you were a twelve year old brat with an already extensive juvenile criminal record, but _they_ still did it. I wouldn't have done it," she admits, genuinely, giving the both of them an earnest look, shaking her head slightly. "I would've been too selfish. To try and raise you better?" She huffs. "I can't speak for Oliver's parents, but I can speak for myself when I say it was a whole lotta better than how she was raised." She sends a shaky smile Felicity's way before turning back to him, taking a step closer. "I'm not asking you to call them 'mommy' and 'daddy', I'm asking you to respect the fact they're your parental figures, whether you like it or not. So apologize. Because they're not only there for you when you think you need it, but also when you think you don't. Like right now."

She lets that sink in a little, only to dramatically pick back up, "Because they care about you and don't want you drinking alcohol when your underaged and will even fight their poor middle-aged mother over it, and nag and nag about you making your homework because they want you to succeed, and," she sends him a pointed look, " _yell_ at you when you're being an insufferable ass."

She leans closer and pats his arm, quietly into his ear she tells him, "For the record, you're just supposed to sit there and _take it_. That's all they want from you."

He purses his lips, the frown slowly dissipating from his face as he looks at his parental figures. Felicity looks a little guilty, but Oliver isn't afraid to look like he personally whispered every word into Donna's ear.

He sighs, sinking down on the couch as he watches Felicity's eyes light up, bumping her arm lightly against Oliver's, and Donna smiling all-too-proudly. "Okay. Give it to me."

By all means, their verbal smackdown was nothing compared to Donna's.

.

She does however, finally offer him a real cocktail on his 18th birthday. "In the land of our people the legal drinking age is 18, so bottoms up."

"Vegas?" He asks dumbfounded, staring at the pink frilly drink she shoved towards him on the bar. He's had beer before, but it feels wrong to tell her this when she's so excited.

"No, Israel, you dummy." She nudges him with her elbow, back towards the bar, eyes on the look-out, talking out of the side of her mouth. "I would've gotten you something stronger but I think your mom was on to me. Eyes like a hawk that one."

"I don't know what's been up her hoo-hah for the past week but it's draining me out," she complains, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder like she's making a point, looking at Roy for confirmation.

Because, _righ_ t, Oliver was off with Sara and Diggle on some investigation on an 'island' which was the whole reason they had to postpone his birthday party and he was hanging with his grandma instead. Whatever.

He spots Thea, talking to some guy she's waitressing. He knows she's only flirting to make extra tips, but it makes his blood boil and feel like he should go over there and—

"Yeah, she's always ten times more on edge when Oliver is gone," he notes, absentmindedly, downing the drink at once before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Donna perks up at this, turning towards him with wide eyes, then pokes her bottom lip out, nodding like she's impressed. "Looks like you take after your good old granny after all, kid."

He just makes a noise in acknowledgement, that sounds more like a groan than anything, watching Thea laugh at some joke that's probably not even funny. Suddenly she turns her head, as if she could feel him watching her, and waves, sending him a wink. He smiles back but she's already back to the guy.

He clenches his hands into fists, gritting his teeth and Donna takes a sip from her own drink, by sucking on the tiny straw lodged in her martini.

"Calm down, kid. Jealousy isn't too good of a look on you," she whispers like it's a secret, although she still sounds quite loud.

Roy shakes his head to himself, trying to relax a little as he rolls his shoulders back. She puts a hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly, that all-knowing look on her face. "She's a pretty thing that girl, ain't she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mutters, lamely, and for the first time the loud dance music is making his head pound.

"I'm dumb but I'm not blind," she continues, slurping loudly on her drink before putting her hand up to order another one. "I've watched you look at that girl like she hung the moon since you were twelve years old."

"Don't," he starts, sighing but she shakes her head, linking her arm through his as the barman refills their drinks. "I also noticed how she's been looking at you. Ever since you grew into that body," she taps a fake nail to his temple thoughtfully, "and mind of yours."

"Donna, I appreciate it but I don't really think she's into me."

"Not if you act like this no."

"Like what?" He asks, obligatory as he takes a swig of his cocktail, the taste not so bad as it was at first.

She raises her eyebrows, tilting her head slightly. "A _pussy_."

He almost chokes on his drink, coughing loudly as Donna hands him a few napkins, keeping one to dab at his dress shirt that Felicity made him wear.

"I'm sorry, kid, but it's the truth. Girls like a little," she shakes her upperbody, purple sequined dress blinding him, " _confidento_."

He doesn't really remember the word for confidence from his Spanish class, but he's sure that's not it. It seems useless to point it out though, besides, he doesn't actually care.

She slaps his arm, simultaneously gulping down her drink, foregoing the straw completely. "A little grit!"

"What also works great is showing them how great of a time you're having without them," she adds, shrugging a little, obviously already a little buzzed. She pushes him towards the dancefloor, wiggling her eyebrows, "Now dance with me!"

.


End file.
